


Burnin'

by Iron_Angel



Series: Chicken MacNoodle Soup [2]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Ghoul Sex, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 11:14:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12886680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iron_Angel/pseuds/Iron_Angel
Summary: Alternatively titled: "If you can't stand the heat, stay out of the VIP lounge."Hancock hates the first week of Spring... until Nora is turns up.





	Burnin'

**Author's Note:**

> [insert disclaimer here] Unbeta'd. I'll correct mistakes and typos as I find them.
> 
> ((Using the lovely Gaqalesqua's idea of ghouls' seasonal heats with permission.))

Fuck Spring.

No really, it could fuck right off, Hancock grumbled to himself as he stepped into the Third Rail, lighting what felt like his twentieth cigarette since that morning. He decided to forgo the Jet since it only made time drag out even longer. The cigarette itself did nothing but give his hands something to do that didn't involve being shoved down his pants.

He let out an audible growl as he felt himself twitch, making the Neighborhood Watchman temporarily replacing Ham jump.

Hancock should be taking his cue from Ham and all the other ghouls around Goodneighbor and stay locked up in his bedroom at the Old State House. Or locked up in someone else's bedroom maybe. No one expected him to do much of anything during the first week of Spring; "heat season". He _should_ be enjoying himself with any ready and willing guy or gal or both -- hell, _all_ \-- right now, but, honestly, he just wasn't interested in random hook-ups these days. Not since he'd been traveling with the Commonwealth's favorite vaultie.

Thinking about Nora at that moment, he didn't mind it so much when he felt himself move again.

Fuck duty, too, he thought as he made his way down into the barroom. He and Nora had had to go their separate ways; he with his mayoral duties in Goodneighbor and her with her Minutemen in... god-knows-where. Neither were happy about it, but such was life.

The Third Rail was unusually empty, especially for this time of the evening.

Well, no, not unusual. Again, fuck Spring, man.

"Mayor 'ancock," Whitechapel Charlie called, eyestalks raising. "Didn't expect you to be out an' about. Lookin' for fresh... entertainment?"

Sometimes Hancock really hated his reputation, even if it was well-deserved. Ignoring the robot's question, he barked, "Whiskey. Skip the glass."

As he turned from the bar with booze in hand, he noticed one of the few bar patrons give first the bottle a longing look, then _him_ a serious up-and-down.

Nope, definitely not in the mood for one of _those_ types today.

He tipped his hat to the patron, then steadfastly turned his back on them -- _No hard feelings; not interested_ \-- to head to the VIP lounge and hopefully some privacy.

The VIP lounge wasn't empty.

Hancock's heart leaped.

Sitting in the largest armchair, clothed in a silvery cocktail dress, and drinking a Nuka-Cola Quantum was Nora.

"Well, look who it is! When did you get back in town?" he grinned, striding over to stand in front of her. For a moment, his affliction was forgotten in the rush of joy that she was actually there.

She smiled up at him. "Your watchers must be sleeping on the job," she chuckled, "or else you would have already known I came in this morning."

He shrugged. "Security is understaffed at the moment. That time of year, and all."

Even just mentioning it seemed to bring it all rushing back. That, and the way her skirt shifted up slightly as she crossed one leg over the other. He swallowed, suddenly wanting nothing more in the entire world than to run his fingertips over that exposed extra inch of thigh.

He glanced back up to her face and found that she was looking at him with a knowing smirk; very perceptive. Setting his bottle of whiskey on the side table, he nodded to the space next to her on the chair. "Think maybe there's room for two?"

One eyebrow arched, but she said nothing as she scooted over slightly. She had tried to take a sip of her Quantum as he maneuvered himself in next to her, but the motion jostled her arm, causing the cola to splash droplets of glowing blue against her mouth and chin, and drip down her neck. "Ugh, Hancock!" she _tsk_ ed, putting aside the bottle to try to clean herself up.

When opportunity knocks...

"Neon looks good on you," he purred, hooking a finger under her chin and brushing his thumb over the droplets, smearing it worse. He paused to search her eyes for just a moment -- they fluttered half-closed in anticipation -- then leaned in to run his tongue across her lips. "Tastes even better."

Turning to press her body further against him, she tilted her head back. "Don't leave the job half finished," she mock-complained.

He was never one for drinking soda, but damn this was too good. Lowering his mouth to her throat, he took his time licking each individual drop clean, smiling when he felt her pull his hat off and set it wherever. Obstacle removed, he tilted his head to give himself better access to continue licking and kissing a trail all the way down to the neckline of her dress and back up again, earning soft hums of pleasure.

Returning to her mouth, he slid his fingers up into her hair to take a handful and pull her back slightly. "Sunshine, what you do to me..." he whispered, using his free hand to take hers and press it against the bulge of his trousers.

Of her own volition, she gave him a firm squeeze. A thrill shot through him as she murmured, "I know." Releasing him, she shifted forward to the edge of the seat and stood.

He didn't quite know what to expect, but she wasn't ignorant and she wasn't cruel. She knew what this time of the year was like for ghouls, for him. He wasn't a natural ghoul; he made himself into what he was. But even if he didn't suffer heats as badly as the legitimately turned ghouls, he still felt the anguish of unbearable _need_. She knew this, and she wouldn't wind him up and leave him in agony. He took comfort in that, at least.

No, she wouldn't leave him to suffer, but teasing a little bit first?

When he had eagerly leaned forward to grab at her hips, she gracefully lifted a leg to plant a high-heeled foot against his chest and carefully pushed him back against the chair. "Be patient," she warned, bringing her leg back down when she realized he was trying to look up the skirt.

Hey, can you blame a ghoul?

"I don't want you ripping my dress," she explained.

"Valid concern," he agreed, watching as she reached behind her back, unzipping it.

It went slack, and she shrugged it off her shoulders. Hancock stared, mesmerized, as it slid like quicksilver over her breasts and stomach and hips, down and off her thighs to pool at her ankles. No bra, but very, _very_ narrow black lace panties. Draping the garment over the side table next to the now-forgotten bottles of drinks, she slipped out of her heels as well, and climbed into his lap.

"You done with your little striptease? Because if I have to wait any longer, I swear I'm gonna go feral," he growled, running his hands up to finally grab her about the waist. He didn't wait for her to answer. Pulling her up on her knees, he pressed a kiss to her chest before moving to mouth at her breast, latching onto a nipple.

She hissed softly as he gently tugged at it with his teeth, her hands sliding up to lightly rake her nails over his scalp. " _Ah_! Eager much?" she huffed.

He released her with a pop and looked up into her eyes as he ran his fingers along the thin band of fabric of her panties at her hips. "You have no idea," and he yanked the material apart.

"Son of a b _mmmph_!"

He quelled whatever protests she might have had with a deep, ravenous kiss that was more hunger than passion. She let out an even louder whimper as, without warning, he slid his fingers along her slit and into her opening. Already slick, he loved that she was always so responsive. Just one of the many things that made being with her so enjoyable.

Even as he continued to fuck her with his hand, she fumbled with his flag belt; seemed he wasn't the only one that was eager, he thought to himself. It took a minute or two and several starts and stops, but she managed to work it and his fly open. She paused for a split second when she realized he'd gone commando and he could have sworn that little huff of breath was a laugh, but then she was stroking him and he couldn't give a molerat's ass about her opinion of his wardrobe. Or lack thereof. So good with her hands...

Heat or not, god, he wanted her.

He moved from her lips, nipping and biting rosy marks along her neck to its base. "Nora, love... Sunshine, please..." he groaned, "Please let me fuck you..."

He'd forgotten what he'd been doing with his own hand until she grabbed him by the wrist and removed it. The small and getting smaller part of him that was still rational felt a bit sheepish for slacking off, but if Nora was upset with him, it didn't stop her from lining them up and sliding down on his cock.

He hissed and she gasped, and both had to stop for the briefest of moments.

When he was sure he wouldn't come right then and there, he took her by the hips and bucked up. Slow, then harder, pulling and pushing at her until he had her bouncing and whimpering and moaning.

Any other time, he would have worked to drag it out, making her come repeatedly before he finally let himself go. Not right now, though. Right now, he _needed_.

As her noises became louder and he felt her start to clench around him, he reached between them to rub hard at her clit, forcing her over the edge.

"Oh my god, John!"

She knew all the right ways to get him going.

He tightened his hold on her, burying his face between her breasts, and came with near-feral snarl.

A handful of minutes later, when the world came back into focus, he lifted his head to kiss her again. Gently this time. "I'm glad you came back to town," he said softly.

Pressing her forehead against his, she gave him a slightly glazed-eyed smile. "I thought maybe you might need me."

"Hope you're planning on staying," he hummed, bucking up with his hips again. She gasped and bit her lip; he hadn't gone soft at all. "Might need you for a _long_ time."

Suddenly --

"Oh, jeez... Fuu-reakin' _really_?! In here too?! It's like the whole town had some sort of aphrodisiac bomb dropped on it or something!"

Startled, Hancock locked his arms possessively around Nora at MacCready's shout. She squeaked in surprise at both being half-crushed and being further impaled, then let out a laugh. At his concerned look, she shook her head and grinned. Assured that she was okay, he arched an eyebrow ridge at her -- a different question -- and she nodded.

They both turned their attention to the wide-eyed merc still staring at them. "'Tis the season, Mac," Hancock said casually. "Care to join us?"

**Author's Note:**

> The wind up... the pitch...!
> 
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
